At the meta-level, Fargo, North Dakota three-piece Secret Cities is a tough act to categorize. Every bite of their sound—which includes intricate piano work, whistling, rattling percussion, simmering string arrangements, dramatic crescendos and distinct elements of experimental-yet-melodic psychedelia—makes for quite the mixed bag of instruments on their debut full-length, Pink Graffiti. And in lesser hands, such a complex collage might fall flat, but here it’s just recognizably and delightfully homegrown. Their accessibility as a band was granted for me by means of a “what might come next?” sort of mystique I felt emanating from Pink Graffiti.

Much of the album was written in correspondence, with band members Charlie Gokey, Marie Parker and Alex Abnos sending four-track tapes back and forth. This method has proved an interesting way to build a record and certainly establishes the album as an art piece in itself. I find it amazing that despite inherent physical separation of the band members during the writing process, the tracks avoid a distance from one another. Pink Graffiti is an album, a cohesive experience and a journey through and through. One string that can be found threaded through many of the songs is Charlie’s blatant and subtle allusions to Brain Wilson. Consider it a bonus feature, a kind of Where’s Waldo for the ears, except you’re trying to find the infamous beach boy.

At the micro level, the album delivers a worthwhile 41 minutes of a youthful expression and dreamlike images in one’s own mind; instrumentally, the band is doing a lot of work to stimulate the senses. The vocals are mostly soft and layered, as on opener “Pink City.” Then there is the whistling, strung along several tracks that acts as the reassuring narrator of whatever escapade Pink Graffiti seems to elicit. The gorgeous “Slacker,” for example, sounds like it could be a soundtrack to a melancholy-yet-peaceful rendezvous in the forest with an intriguing stranger. The song also proves that Secret Cities have female vocals and catchy piano worth expanding upon. Parker builds softly sung versus into a melodic chorus with a brief moment of exploring her deeper vocal capabilities that would be great to hear more of. The guitar and percussion shimmer together as a working unit throughout the album. “Aw Rats” is testament to this, with it’s hammering instrumental chorus.

For anyone hungry for comparisons, there are a few standout ingredients: “Pink Graffiti pt. 2,” “Vamos A La Playa,” and “Boyfriends” are well refined staples reminiscent (at least for aesthetic reasons) of Arcade Fire’s Funeral, Cursive’s The Ugly Organ and Islands’ Return to The Sea, respectively. Other than that, it does Pink Graffiti no justice to stretch for commonalities among contemporaries.

Secret Cities seem to have come along at a unique time, where the triumphant success of many indie bands has tempted many others to share with the world what often become cliché efforts, relying on whatever gimmick gave their influences their perceived success. However, Secret Cities have replay value powerful enough to perhaps garner enough attention and prove to be an object of imitation in the next few years. Pink Graffiti seems like the album that we all hope our favorite bands make next, but instead it is a new high standard for these young emerging artists.